


What's On The Other Side?

by Lanna Michaels (lannamichaels), valuna



Series: LJ roleplaying [4]
Category: LOTR RPS
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-07-10
Updated: 2003-07-10
Packaged: 2017-10-07 22:26:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/69880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lannamichaels/pseuds/Lanna%20Michaels, https://archiveofourown.org/users/valuna/pseuds/valuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sean and Viggo switch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What's On The Other Side?

**Author's Note:**

> (Luna) Content: Okay, the foundation for this was laid with [this LJ roleplay](http://www.livejournal.com/users/lunasv/33150.html) [Lanna: [posted here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/131441)], which establishes a d/s relationship, and this bar scene. both LJ roleplaying sessions that were sparked by offhand comments. There is a d/s relationship existing here that needs to be worked through.
> 
> Notes on reality of people reading this: Like "Assume the Position," the creative process for this was fascinating, and the SeanVig muses led us down expected crevices into their minds. This isn't nearly as violent as that fic, but it does dip its toes into a bdsm pool some people would prefer not know lies at the other side of the estate. This will continue, as Sean has to make Vig understand where he was heading.
> 
> (Lanna) Sean tries to the do the switch thing. Viggo is less than happy. BDSM. (Viggo claims that part of this is consensual rape. I'm not exactly sure if I should believe him.)
> 
> \--
> 
> Originally posted at http://community.livejournal.com/rugbytackle/172792.html
> 
> Roleplaying-in-comments post was http://lunasv.livejournal.com/34011.html

Sean isn't in a mood for proper respect. He isn't really wanting to piss off Vig, either, but if it plays into where his head is spinning, it might be worth it.

"Oh, you're going to pay for that, boy." Vig glares menacingly and picks up a bowl off the table, throwing it in Sean's direction.

"Fucking bastard." Sean deftly sidesteps the china, which splinters against the wall. He bends down to pick up shards, noting it's a remnant from Melanie's era. "Oh, it's okay. That was a wedding gift."

"She let you keep it? Oh, I -am- impressed." Slaps Sean's ass while he's bent over. "And what did I tell you about swearing?"

"Shit," Sean says at the swat. "Oops. Sorry, sir," drawing out the sir into a too-long syllable. He walks past Vig, smiles and drops the shards in the wastebasket. "No so much as she let me keep it as it was dirty in the sink and I think she just overlooked it."

"With a design like that, it was probably intentional," Viggo mutters. "And, Sean, if you're not sorry, don't say you are. I don't like being patronized. It makes me feel like a store that's always open." Viggo's eyes bug cutely and he grabs his pocket notebook to write that down. 'Store - open - walking all over'. Then he clears his throat and lifts his head to see Sean smirking at him.

"But you _are_ always open." Sean licks his lips and bites back the laugh.

"Open to pointing out when I fuck up." He takes the pen and notebook from Vig's hands, a little startled by the lack of resistance. "Open to pushing my limits." He starts unbuttoning Vig's flannel shirt, not even trying to process why the man wears such fabric in summer, but rationalizing that the bare feet must counteract the heat. "Open to criticizing my taste in china." Cool hands press against warmed flesh as he pushes the shirt open.

Viggo swallows hard on a suddenly dry throat. "If," he repeats the swallowing and tries again. "If it was a gift, you didn't pick it out." Viggo wants to add that Sean forgot something, but can't think of anything like that with Sean being unusually gentle.

Sean knows he's unnerved Viggo, or at least caught him offguard, and for the moment, he's going with that, casting any concerns about retaliations far to the back of his brain.

"Surely, Vig," he drops his voice, soft, low, gentle almost, "you know how weddings work." He pushes the shirt back and off the shoulders, dips his head, swipes his tongue over one nipple. "Couple picks out the china, then other folks buy it." His tongue continues its trail up to Vig's shoulder as his hands push the shirt down Vig's arms. "So don't be going all artist on me and criticizing the pattern."

He thinks for a moment, wonders how badly he's going to pay for what he's about to do. Decides he doesn't care. Sean grasps Vig's forearms and pushes them down and back as the shirt moves over the elbows, tangling them in the shirt fabric, tying it off and locking his lover's wrists in the small of his back. his hands. "Sir," he adds with a smile as he kisses the tattoo on Vig's arm.

Viggo groans audibly before he can stop himself. "As soon as I get rid of this erection, you are so dead, pet." Viggo knows it's not much of a threat as he's at Sean's mercy, but doesn't care. Besides, he's never known the husband to be the one who picked out the pattern. Usually it was foisted on him by the chattering wife. Then again, Exene hadn't been one for china. Or Hong Kong.  
Well, at least Sean remembered to be polite.

Sean makes sure the fabric knot is secure; tight enough to hold, but he knows it's undoable if Vig wants to turn the tables. "Maybe I shouldn't get rid of then," he says, straightening and taking a single step backward. "Don't want to be dead and all. Sir."

"Do and die," Viggo growls. "So I'm not leaving you much choice, Sean. Get back over here and kiss me."

Sean relishes the position Vig's letting him take. He's a switch, and moving from top to bottom is as simple as bending over. Not that he does it that easily. No fun in that. But Vig doesn't switch at random, preferring to have the upperhand in everything. Sean steps back in. "And where would like that kiss? Here?" He brushes his lips over the juncture of Vig's collarbone. "Or here?" Then on his Adam's apple.

"You damned well know where." Viggo struggles against his shirt, unwilling to even attempt to rip it. It's his favorite shirt. Sean gave it to him as a spontaneous present one night and Viggo has worn it through everything. The cloth is soft and tight around him and he isn't risking this bit of his and Sean's history just because he's fucking impatient. "Stop being a tease. It isn't fucking endearing."

Sean notes with a silent laugh the struggle Vig isn't making. He'd timed it right, this impromptu seduction, knowing Vig won't tear the shirt, no matter how pissed he gets. Sean realizes he might get kicked and head-butted and rugbytackled to the ground, but only if he pushes those buttons of no return. And he's nowhere near them yet. "How about here?" Sean presses into Vig's mouth, latches his hand at the back of Vig's neck and forces his tongue deep through the parted lips.

"Just," Viggo grunts, "right." He attempts to deepen the kiss, but Sean isn't having any of it. It's at his pace and Viggo can't. fucking. move. He finds suddenly he isn't enjoying this, not as much as he has always assumed Sean likes his little games. _Fuck._ Something to ponder. "More."

Sean pulls back. "No." And it takes all his resistance to say that one two-letter word. Part of his brain, a nasty annoyingly loud part, wants to drop to his knees, take Vig's cock in his mouth and suck him till Sunday. Then there's the polite hand raised in the corner of his psyche that points out it's good to be in charge once in a while. He ignores the screaming.

"That's not the way we ask for something, is it?" He traces his hand down Vig's chest, rolls a nipple between thumb and finger, pebbling it into hardness. "What's the right way?"

"Fuck off," Viggo answers and turns his head away. He tries to ignore the hand on his chest. "And get the hell off me. I didn't ask you to do this." But he can't deny that there's a part of him that wants it. He's not sure if he needs it, if he'll be able to deal with himself in the morning, but there's a part of him that wants it very much. And he trusts Sean.

Sean pauses, lays his hand flat, brushes a thumb over Vig's chest. "I know you didn't ask." Voice low, soft, almost inaudible soft. "You wouldn't." He leans in, nudging until he pushes Vig the foot or so backward into the wall. "Anyhow, you didn't use the magic word, so I can't stop." He dips his head, kisses the center of Vig's chest, then feathers kisses down toward his navel.

Viggo leans against the wall like it's the only thing that's keeping him from falling to his knees. He isn't sure how much longer his legs will support him and he isn't about to put himself in such a vulnerable position. Too dangerous. "What sort of magic do you need me to cast so you'll let me go, Sean?"

"No magic." Sean swirls his tongue into Vig's belly button as he passes over it. "Truth be told, not enough magic in all of Hogwarts to cast that spell." He's positive the bound hands, Vig's inability to touch, control his movements is definitely annoying, likely exasperating and possibly infuriating his lover. He straightens up, presses his full body against Vig's

"You really want me to stop?" A whisper against lips as Sean's hand ghosts the waistband of Vig's jeans, fingers wedging fabric from flesh. "Or do you want more?"

"Damn you," Viggo whispers. "Damn you to hell and back, Sean Bean." He drops his head and curses all the power games he's ever played on Sean. Revenge time, it seems. Well, he really shouldn't complain. He's put Sean through enough. And if Sean decides it's Viggo turn to do a little bottoming, Viggo can't fault his logic. Though he wishes he'd been consulted in advance. Popping something like this on him in the middle of everything just isn't fair. "More," he growls and pushes himself against Sean's hand. "More."

"Vig, dear," tone slightly condescending, "think back." Sean undoes the first button, finding some secret delight in the fact Vig's wearing the 501s today and it'll be torturous to go one button at a time. "How many times did I just say more and you reprimand me?"

"If you've expected me to keep count, boy, I have to say that you are sadly mistaken." It feels good to remind himself of Sean's place. It forces him to remember that this, too, will end and when it does, he can have Sean on his knees again.

"Then fine." Sean steps back. He's mildly irritated that Vig won't just play along. He empathizes, knowing how hard it is to sink into that place where all you want to do is beg for the least little touch. But he doesn't think Vig realizes that. Or how much it takes out of him to give himself over to Vig's control. "I'll just leave you to think on it." He fully realizes that Vig is going to be very angry with him, but he wants to make a point. So he turns on heel and walks off across the room. "Say the right words and I might come back."

_Shit._ Viggo whimpers before he can help it. Damn it, he is _not_ letting Sean do this. There is no way in hell Sean's going to desert him now. No fucking way.

"Sean Bean, if you walk out, I swear..." He can't finish it. He merely bites back what he refuses to call a sob and studies the floor.

Sean turns, stands in the hallway arch. "What, Mortensen? What do you swear?"

He walks, nearly stalks, back toward Viggo.

"You'll never fuck me again? That would be a lie." He hovers over Viggo.

"You'll never force me to my knees and make me beg for you?" One hand slammed on the wall. "We both know you wouldn't let that happen."

Other hand slapped down, braced against plaster beside Vig's head. "You'll never push me to the point of breaking, fall with me over the precipice and then put the pieces back together?"

Vig tilts his head up finally and Sean kisses him, biting at the lower lip, making it bruised and pouty when he pulls off. "Now, tell me exactly what it is you want me to do," wry smile against nearly-bleeding lips, "and be very polite about it."

Viggo feels his heart slowly sink. Sean has a point, but that doesn't make the humiliation of this feel any better. The kiss felt good, but damn Sean for making this more than personal.

"I want you," he enunciates slowly, "to bite me. Boy." He'll fuck Orlando before he makes this easy for Sean.

"As you wish." Sean's voice is flat, in spite of the raging fire erupting in his brain. And cock. He bites Viggo's shoulder, hard and long, breaking skin and drawing blood.

Viggo screams. He can't help it. Fucking hurts, goddamnit! But the pain subsides and Viggo stares at Sean, and then spits. "So you've marked me," he can't help his voice from being flat and knows it'll never be as cold as he feels. "Now what?"

Sean's hoping this doesn't totally backfire on him. He'd wanted to give Vig a taste of his reality, not in anger. Not totally in fun either. What's happening, Sean suspects, is that he's getting a dose of himself, of how he fights Vig on every move, how frustrated and irritated and downright ready to slam his fist through the wall Viggo must get.

"I can make it miserable for you." He moves his hands, trails them down Vig's chest and makes quick work on the buttons on his jeans, making sure each makes the appropriate popping noise as it's undone. He presses his hand over the cotton, mentally cursing that Vig wears boxers too much of the time, and strokes the already hardening cock. "Get you so hard and then leave you." He kisses the shoulder wound, licking at the blood. "Got the cock ring in my pocket."

Viggo hates the fact that he's getting hard. Hates it. Wishes he had enough self-control to tell his body to get down and stay down. But it doesn't work that way, dammit. Not when he's against the wall with Sean dousing him, so to speak, with the cold water of reality.

Something's only fair if it can be switched around and no one's worse off. Viggo catches himself before he can say something hurtful. This is Sean's game. Sean's in control now. "You won't need it," Viggo pauses and grits his teeth. "Sir." Fuck, but it hurt to say that.

_Sir._ The word echoes in Sean's head like a cacophonous symphony, satisfying and pleasing in how disturbing it sounds. That's all he wanted. Not to break his lover, like his lover does to him. He doesn't need to take Vig down to that place. Just bend it a little, send him off into tangents of experience. "That's all it takes," Sean soothes with a light voice, his hand slipping under fabric, caressing flesh, kneading it into hardness. "It only hurts for a second."

Viggo closes his eyes. His medicine tastes terrible: bitter and it makes him choke. 'Sir'. He called Sean 'sir'. Sean's wrong. It hurts for so much longer. Viggo isn't sure if it's his pride that's aching, or only his heart. Doesn't matter, really.

"Yes, Sir. Is there anything that sir wants from this boy?" Viggo asks demurely, keeping his eyes focused on the floor. Maybe then he won't have to watch himself enjoying this.

Might as well push for all it's worth, Sean thinks. "Pretend you enjoy this," he says, the words coming out a little more harshly than intended. "Trust me, it'll be worth it," he adds, tempering his voice back to a comforting level.

"I want you to tell me exactly what you want." Fingers circling cock, squeezing a tad, lingering thumb over weeping slit.

Viggo flinches as Sean's words strike him. Pretending? He had thought he already was. He schools his expression into something approaching passivity.   
"I want what you want, Sir."

"You're lying," Sean says, smile ghosting over his lips. He wonders if he's enjoying this too much, this splurge of power. "But, then again, I shouldn't expect you to be." A kiss on Vig's lips, light and airy and almost nonchalant. "You can't be honest with yourself. Why do it with me?"

Sean pushes the thought far into the recesses of his brain, let's it meditate with the little piece of himself that regrets pushing Vig's buttons every time he's on his knees.

"What you want is me on my knees." Sean pauses, drops, kneels up in front of Vig. "My mouth on your cock." He pushes denim and cotton down over flesh, letting Vig's erection brush his cheek as he leans in. "Preferably hands unbound so you can tangle your fingers in my hair, force me to match your unyielding pace." He keeps his hands firmly on Vig's hips, holding him against the wall, pushing his lover's body into wrists he knows are starting to ache.

"Does that about sum it up?" Lips parted, tongue flicking out, Sean stops, looks up. "Boy."

Viggo grimaces to hear that word come from Sean. He makes it sound almost evil, like an endearment that went wrong. Viggo hears it as a curse, though he knows Sean didn't mean it that way.

Viggo shifts as best he can, wondering if this is the time to give up his shirt for lost and rip the damn thing in half. "If you say so, Sir."

"Answer me one question, Vig? Honestly" Sean sits back on his heels. The smile dances in his eyes, shards of jade sifted through kiwi peelings. "Am I this infuriating?"

"No." And he's being honest. When Sean gets bad, Viggo generally get amused. Or horny. If Sean is making him truly angry, Viggo knows it's time to stop. Viggo's usually a good sport and he knows that Sean is just being Sean, the man he fell in love with, the man he wants to spend the rest of his life with. If something they're doing reduces Viggo to fury, then something is wrong.

But Sean has gone further than Viggo's ever dared go. He's not quite sure if he likes it. Or if he's supposed to like it.

"No, I imagine I'm not." Not quite a smirk. Close to it, enough to probably piss Vig off. Sean's taking it farther than maybe he should. Into some mind game. Definitely beyond any boundaries they might have set. If they'd set boundaries beyond _Sean, you're mine._

"But I play the game a little better." Sean squeezes his fingers into Vig's flesh, positive he's leaving indents, then dips his head, licks the length of Vig's cock. Up and down. Twice.

Fuck, that feels good. Viggo bites his tongue against the sound, against whatever reply he shouldn't be making. This is Sean's game. This is Sean's turn at control. Viggo reminds himself to respect that. Sean was always flexible when Viggo was firm. Sean obeyed, though usually under protest. Viggo's had his chance at protest. Now he needs to obey.

"Yes, Sir," he says instead.

Sean pauses, the sudden stop causing a tremor of hums to echo along Vig's cock. "Much better," he says, mouth barely pulled off its tip. "Now, try a please and I might actually finish this."

He wants a WHAT? Viggo catches himself before 'fuck off' can become more than a thought. He has to behave. Maybe if he does and performs to Sean's satisfaction, Sean won't pop this on him again.

"P-" Viggo starts. And finds he can't.

The torture ensues. Sean pulls his mouth off Vig's cock, flicking his tongue against the slit, blowing wisps of hot breath across the tip as he talks. "C'mon, Vig, say it. Please. Suck. My. Cock." And it's damned obvious that Sean is enjoy every last fucking minute of it.

There is no fucking way that Viggo is begging. No fucking way. Then again, it doesn't sound that bad. And Sean's offering a lot in exchange for four little words. Viggo's always up for a blowjob. Always. Perhaps not literally, but... Too much thinking when Sean could have already been sucking him! Viggo grits his teeth and takes a deep breath.

"Suck." Well, he manages that one just fine. "My. Cock." Viggo takes another breath and tries to fall into role. Nick Davis would know when to say please. Prudent bastard, though a tad bloodthirsy. "P-please."

There.

Music to a dead man's ears. And Sean realizes he's going to be just that, dead, when Vig comes and gets out of the knots. He's just hoping his lover will be pleased enough with the end result not to kill him.

"Very nice, Vig."

Sean follows through on his promise and returns to the task at hand, or mouth as it was, deep-throating Vig before he has a chance to think about it too much. He loves the feel of that, cock stroking the back of his throat, pushing past the long suppressed gag reflex, wanting to swallow his lover whole and completely.

Viggo groans as Sean swallows him whole. Fuck, but it's been a while since he's done that. Viggo feels himself push past the point of no return and he comes down Sean's throat with a whimper. He's not about to ask his boy if he can come. He finally pulls back and out and can't help but swallow hard. "Is that really what I do to you?" he asks softly.

Sean swallows, licks his lips and takes a final swipe at Vig's cock, cleaning it thoroughly before he stands up.

"Yeah. You do."

He reaches around Vig's waist and slowly undoes the fabric knots. "Don't strike back," he says, gripping Vig's freed wrists in his fingers. "Let me do one more thing. I promise you'll like it."

Viggo is tottering somewhere between demanding Sean let him go and ordering his boy to stop stalling and give it to him. He was floating somewhere in the stratosphere and Sean has brought him back rather abruptly, somewhat painfully.

"Do it," he whispers. He doesn't hit back.

Sean steps back and starts to strip. Not seductively. He knows Vig won't tolerate a drawn-out production. Just the basics.

He pulls the long-sleeved Henley off over his head, drops it on the floor. He slides the wrist cuffs that had been wedged up his forearm down, pulling on the straps and tightening them.

He doesn't say a word as he unzips his jeans and pulls them down and off, kicking the denim pool aside. It's obvious the "cock ring in the pocket" bluff had been just that, a threat he couldn't carry out as he's wearing the restraint himself.

"Blank canvas, Vig," Sean says, laying hands on thighs and turning them palms up. "Want to create a work of art?"

Viggo only stares. Then, without a word, he turns and walks out.

Sean is sure whether to shrug or sigh. It didn't turn out exactly like he wanted it to. And a lot less like he expected. He'd assumed Vig would be frustrated, angry, horny or some combination thereof, and would take his madness out on him. He didn't anticipate total apathy, not from Vig.

"Fuck you, Viggo Mortensen," Sean hisses. "If you don't wanna play, that's fine." He doesn't even bother picking up his clothes. Just grabs the remote control, throws himself on the couch and flips through to the nearest sports channel.

Viggo makes it to the bathroom before he retches. He isn't sure how long he kneels there with his head against the cold seat before it's only dry heaves and the constant ache of an unsettled stomach. It could have been days for all he cares.

He's been forcing Sean. All this time, he's been forcing the one man he's ever really loved. His inspiration, his fucking soul. The one person who had become closer to him than his own son. And Viggo's been forcing him into something he's never wanted, all in the name of love and fair play.

Viggo wonders if suicide would be too much of a cliche.


End file.
